


Tempo

by dearfriendicanfly



Category: Gintama
Genre: Everybody Lives, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, happy birthday takasugi please dont die, hints of bantaka if u squint real hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearfriendicanfly/pseuds/dearfriendicanfly
Summary: Ever since Matako met them, there's always been music. It rings in her ears as she walks the Edo streets with no disguise, no constant glancing over her shoulder, no finger on the trigger of her father’s gun. It mingles with the bustling sounds of the city, hearty laughter and construction noise as the people rebuild from the ground up. It sounds warm. It sounds strange.(A few snapshots of Matako's life with the Kiheitai, for my good friend Glorija and for Takasugi's birthday!)





	Tempo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [korisnik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/korisnik/gifts).



Matako’s fingers wander down the neck of a shamisen, tongue between her teeth as she plucks out an old children’s song. Bansai watches in silence, his expression hard to make out from behind his glasses. The notes come slowly, a little harshly, but her rhythm is steady.

When she finishes, the sound rings around the cabin for just a moment as she awaits Bansai’s verdict.

He strokes his chin and nods.

“You’re getting better.”

Matako lets out a groan, passing the shamisen off to Bansai with one hand and burying her face in another. “But I’m not _good_.”

“I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you meant, ain’t it?”

Bansai bites back a smile, setting the shamisen gently back on its stand. “What I mean is that you’re improving. No musician worth their salt ever stops at good, you know. Improvement is what’s important.”

“That’s just a fancy way of sayin’ Shinsuke-sama doesn’t need earplugs to tune me out anymore.”

Takasugi doesn’t look up from the paperwork on his desk. “Mmhmm.”

Matako sighs, heaving herself back to her feet and stretching out her stiff back. “I guess I’ll take it.”

The innermost room of the ship’s cabin has been turned into a kind of office away from Takasugi’s office, a desk (courtesy of Katsura) shoved away in a corner and some cushions (courtesy of Bansai and Matako) tucked in another, conveniently right beside Takasugi’s shamisen stand. He prefers to work here, with the sound of the ocean and his rowdy crewmates a distant, dull roar. Matako can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually gone to work at his “real” office. Too many noisy bureaucrats flapping about and making a nuisance of themselves, he always complains. Funnily enough, he never seems to mind Bansai and Matako wandering in and making themselves at home.

He watches Matako walk about through the corner of his good eye. She paces around absently for a minute, then comes to a stop by a porthole, looking out at the sea with clouded eyes.

“...Kinda weird, ain’t it?” she murmurs.

“What is?” Bansai asks gently.

“I dunno. All of it. Bein’ here, filing paperwork ‘n shit, taking music lessons. All that stuff.”

Takasugi lays his pen down, leaning back in his chair with a sigh and rubbing his eye. “I don’t remember asking for help with the paperwork.”

“No, no, I ain’t complaining,” Matako says hurriedly, turning a little red, “I just mean… I dunno. Forget it. I’m gonna go get something to eat, either of you want anything?”

Bansai raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t press. “I’ve eaten.”

Takasugi simply grunts, going back to his work with a frown.

“He means no, but thank you,” Bansai offers.

Matako sighs, rolling her eyes. “All right, guess I’ll stay in town for a while, then. I’ll be back later.”

As she climbs the steps back up to the deck, soft music from below follows her heels.

It rings in her ears as she walks the Edo streets with no disguise, no constant glancing over her shoulder, no finger on the trigger of her father’s gun. It mingles with the bustling sounds of the city, hearty laughter and construction noise as the people rebuild from the ground up.

It sounds warm. It sounds strange.

* * *

Five years before, she presses her fingertips to her temples, trying to dam the onslaught of swears before she can open her mouth.

“Lemme get this straight,” she says slowly, breathing deep. In and out. “You’ve been managin’ a music production business under a pseudonym.”

Bansai nods. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t run this by anybody first?”

“Yes.”

At least he’s honest. She chews her lip, trying not to let her face twist in anger.

“For how long now?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin. “Six months?”

It’s all Matako can do not to strangle him.

“ _Are you out of your damn mind?!_ ” she hollers, settling for grabbing him by the lapels. “You’re a wanted man, you fuckin’ idiot! What are you gonna do when somebody recognizes you, huh?! Hope they’re a fan?!”

Bansai lays his hands gently over hers, unfazed. “Now, now, let’s not get violent, I’m more than willing to discuss–“

“Oh _hell_ no, you’re not about to talk your way outta this one, mister silver tongue.” She lets go of Bansai and turns to Takasugi, exasperated. “Shinsuke-sama, he’ll listen to you, tell him he’s bein’ stupid!”

Takasugi takes a long drag from his kiseru, eyeing the two of them strangely.

“I think it’s fine.”

“ _Thank_ you, at least _somebody_ on this boat has some damn common s–”

There’s a long silence as Matako stares at Takasugi, open-mouthed.

Then, she nearly lifts Bansai off his feet, fuming.

“ _What the hell did you do to Shinsuke-sama to make him agree to this?! What have you been doing with that silver tongue?!_ ”

Bansai coughs. “That’s neither here nor there.”

Takasugi’s teeth grind audibly.

As Matako storms down the hall to her cabin later, she mutters to herself, fuming.

“The hell is he thinking… if he’s even thinkin’ at all… damn empty headed bastard…”

“I wouldn’t have expected that reaction from you.”

Matako nearly jumps out of her skin – coincidentally, so does Takechi as a bullet flies past his ear.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, you damn creep,” she says weakly, rubbing her temple and holstering her gun.

Takechi pulls himself together, clearing his throat, but his voice is still a good octave too high. “I tried to call out to you before, but you were distracted.” 

Matako rolls her eyes, clicking her teeth. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, I ain’t in the mood to deal with you, Takechi-senpai.”

His eye twitches. “All I was going to say was that I’m surprised.”

“Surprised?” Matako stares incredulously. “The only surprising thing is all you numbnuts just letting Bansai do whatever the hell he wants! He’s gonna jeopardize the whole operation just for some laughs!”

“Jeopardize what exactly, Kijima?”

She opens her mouth to retort, but the words curdle and turn sour in her throat and she chews the inside of her cheek instead, trying to contain whatever it is that’s suddenly welling up in her chest.

“Don’t you start that, too,” she says quietly.

Takechi sighs, and something about it pisses Matako off. Just like it did when Takasugi did it.

_“I’ve told you from the beginning, you’re free to come and go and do as you please. It hardly matters to me what you get up to in your free time.”_

_“But he’s jeopardizing–”_

_“Jeopardizing what? I haven’t exactly tried to sugarcoat it. We’re not reformists, you know. If you had those kinds of ideas about what we do here, then maybe you’d be better off joining Katsura’s group.”_

The cold look he gave her still hovers in the corner of her eye.

“He oughta care,” she finally says, her eyes downcast. “Him and Bansai both. I ain’t fooling myself about what we do, and I don’t give two shits about this country, either. But at least I care about my own skin.” Matako lets out a long breath, leaning against the wall of the hallway, and tries to keep her voice even. “Maybe _I’m_ the stupid one.”

Takechi hums thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “Do you know why I thought you’d react differently to the news, Kijima?”

“I get the feelin’ you’re gonna tell me either way.”

“Correct. The truth is I thought you would be thrilled to hear that Bansai-dono was pursuing a career in music because it would mean that he was building something for himself and considering his future.”

Matako opens her mouth, but once again, no words come out. She closes it, staring at Takechi like she doesn’t quite know what to make of him, and then simply says, “Huh.”

“But I suppose we should consider our security,” Takechi muses. “I’ll have a talk with him about safeguards.”

“Huh.”

As Takechi goes on and on about possible new security policies, Matako doesn’t listen. She’s thinking about what kind of future she envisions for herself.

* * *

Three years before, she watches Bansai play a ballad, haunting and strange in the way that the notes reverberate through the open night air. The sea is calm and smooth below them, reflecting the moonlight like an inky black mirror.

“Weird,” she mumbles, her eyes following his fingers as they make their way up and down the neck of his shamisen.

He doesn’t miss a beat as he replies. “How so?”

“It just sounds weird. Like somethin’ out of a horror flick.”

“That’s because it’s from Yakuza vs Aliens 4: The Reckoning.”

Matako snorts, unable to choke back a grin. “Why the hell are you playin’ the Yakuza vs Aliens soundtrack out here under the moon? Are you trying to summon some kinda cinephile ghost?”

She gets Bansai to crack the barest of smiles at that. “I simply felt like playing it. I don’t need a grand reason to enjoy good music, I daresay.”

Matako shakes her head, but she’s still smiling. “If you say so.”

She lays back and watches the stars as he resumes his song, saying nothing. The music echoes eerily through the empty sky, carried away from the ship by the sea breeze. Bansai hums softly as he plays.

When she dozes off, she dreams of a movie theater full of ghosts.

* * *

Ten years before, she is surrounded by strangers, making their way through the woods on a dark night and praying that there’s a safe place waiting for them outside the trees. Fear settles in the pit of her stomach like a lead weight, but she doesn’t tremble. There’s a numbness that starts in her fingertips and it’s climbing its way to her core as she hikes along behind traitors and terrorists. She can count herself among their number, too, she thinks, her hand still on the holster of her father’s gun.

She suddenly jumps as she hears the plucking of a shamisen.

“What are you doing?!” she hisses, taking Bansai by surprise. “They’ll hear us! Are you nuts?!”

Bansai raises an eyebrow. “I thought it would raise morale. And we’re quite far from the jail by now. We ought to be out of danger, I daresay.”

Takasugi laughs, high and lilting. “I like your bravado. Say, Kijima, why don’t you pick a song?”

Matako stares, a thousand thoughts swimming through her head. All that she can manage to say is, “...D’you know the theme to Aliens vs Yakuza 2?”

As they make their trek to wherever it is they’re going to call home, Matako walks in time to the music, her heart becoming lighter as she hums along. She has no idea what her future holds, but she knows that it must start here, with these strangers and the sound of music.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much to glorija for this prompt and for encouraging me to post it here :'') somebody should really get takasugi a stiff drink for his birthday
> 
> if you ever wanna chat you can find me on twitter @pattsuans, sometimes i do requests n stuff sdkgj
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated more than words can say!! <3


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